


The Writer and the Lawyer

by zivaballerina



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: F/M, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-03-22 18:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3739513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zivaballerina/pseuds/zivaballerina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're like my own personal Mr. Darcy," she told him once. Harvey Specter, devoted husband. Pre-series to present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I’ve seen him with a woman that he can’t get enough of. A woman that’s crawled into every molecule of his being. That consumed his every thought and turned him into a creature of devotion and obsession.”  
-A Love Song for Bobby Long

* * *

Summer 2000.

There was a coffee shop down the block from the District Attorney’s office with really good sandwiches that made for quick lunches. It was usually free from tourists, and the regulars stopped in, grabbed their usuals, and went back to work without stopping to sit down.

That was why she stood out, sitting quietly at a corner table, bent over something with a pen in her hand and a blonde ponytail underneath a Yankees cap. She stopped to take a sip of her coffee, and set it down with a sigh upon finding it empty. He couldn’t help but chuckle at her, and she looked up at him with surprised blue eyes.

He smiled apologetically, holding his own cup up. “Can I get you another?”

She shrugged, chewing on the end of her pen.

“Come on. What was it?”

“Iced mocha.”

He walked back to the counter to order, and she watched him carefully. It didn’t take long for the coffee to be ready, and his pager went off the second that he reached her table.

“Thank you,” she smiled.

“I’m Harvey. Harvey Specter.” His pager went off again, and she shrugged.

“And I think someone needs you.”

“Yeah.”

* * *

She sat at the same table the next afternoon, fully absorbed in her work. He stopped next to her chair, and she didn’t even look up until he cleared his throat. “You again.”

“I believe I owe you a coffee.”

“I believe you owe me your name.”

She ignored him, producing a cup from the chair next to her. “Black, two sugars. They know you well here. It’s still hot.”

“Iced mocha, right?”

She pointed to her mostly full cup. “I haven’t been here long enough. And I bought a large today.”

“I could wait for you to finish that one.”

She took in his crisp suit and tie and the briefcase in his hand. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“It can wait.”

“Do you really want to buy me a coffee that badly?”

“Do you really want me to leave that badly?”

“I guess not.” She gestured to the chair next to her. “There’s not another cup of coffee there, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

He sat. “Now, will you please tell me your name?”

“Since you asked nicely.” She smiled. “Madeleine Harper.”

* * *

It didn’t take her very long to figure out that he came to the coffee shop at almost the exact same time every day. The hard part was “coincidentally” also being there, without him catching on.

His lunch breaks gradually stopped being the kind where he dropped in and got coffee and a sandwich to eat at his desk and instead became the kind where he sat and ate and occasionally lost track of time.

He pointed at her NYU sweatshirt with a smile. “You went to NYU? I did my undergrad there!”

“Yeah, I graduated in May. I’m planning on applying to grad school there. I might go in the spring, or maybe next fall.”

“What for?”

“Masters in creative writing.”

“Ah, that’s what’s with the notebooks. You want to be a writer.”

She shook her head. “I am a writer.”

* * *

Her biggest secret was that she didn’t even like the coffee. It was cheap, and she hated cheap, weak coffee.

One afternoon, he was sitting at her usual table when she walked in.

“You’re late.”

“Late? For what?”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on. We meet here almost every day at the same time. Let’s stop pretending that it’s unplanned.”

“Fair enough.”

* * *

One afternoon, she ordered her coffee, and instead of getting a total, she got a receipt.

“He paid for it already,” smiled the man who ran the shop.

The back of the receipt read, “I’m in court today, so I can’t make it. Sorry. Harvey.”

* * *

“The Harvard Crimsons? That’s such a stupid mascot.”

“Madeleine, you went to NYU.”

“So did you.”

“Madeleine, they’re the NYU Violets.”

“Maybe, but you don’t hear me bragging about them, now do you?”

* * *

She hated mornings, and yet it was early and she stood at the counter, waiting for her drink, dressed in slacks, a blouse, and pumps.

“I’d like to go ahead and pay for his afternoon coffee.” It irked her a little bit that the owner knew exactly who she was talking about. With a knowing smile, he handed her the receipt and a pen, and she began to hastily write, “I won’t be here this afternoon. I have a meeting.” But she only reached the second “o” in “afternoon,” which ended up as a line across the paper as she jumped, startled by a tap on her shoulder.

“You’re here in the mornings, too? Don’t you have a coffee maker at home?”

“I like this coffee,” he said defensively. “Don’t you look nice.”

“I can’t talk to you. I have a meeting.”

“A meeting?”

“With a possible editor to work with me in the future.”

“Nervous?” he asked as the man handed Madeleine her usual iced mocha.

“Very.” She opened the door to leave.

“Call me and tell me how it goes.”

“I will.”

She was a few feet down the sidewalk when he abruptly flung open the door and bounded the few steps after her.

“Hey, Madeleine?” She turned around and he reached out a hand to cup her cheek, kissing her quickly. He dropped his hand. “It’s going to go great.”

* * *

“Hmmm… Where do your parents live?”

“My dad and brother live in Connecticut.”

“And your mom?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. And that’s two questions. You have to answer.”

“DC. Your turn.”

“What’s your middle name?”

“June.”

“Madeleine June…” he repeated, twirling the name in his mouth, tasting it.

She looked at him expectantly. “You?”

“No.”

“Harvey, you asked the question.”

“You have to promise not to laugh.”

“I promise.”

“You really, really promise?”

“Harvey.”

“Reginald.”

She covered her mouth with her hand, determined not to laugh out loud. “Reginald? Why?”

“I have no idea. Why is your name pronounced like Mada-line but spelled like Mada-lynn?”

“My mom thought that the extra ‘e’ was elegant. Favorite sports team?”

“Yankees.”

“Good answer. Mine, too.”

“Why NYU?”

“What’s better than being a writer in New York?”

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“Questions?”

“No. I’m taking you out on a real date.”

“These aren’t real dates?”

“I’m being serious.”

“But you kissed me here! And these aren’t dates? Am I… some kind of floozy?”

“Madeleine.”

“Sorry. Yes, I would love to go on a ‘real date’ with you.”

“Air quotes? Are you eight years old?”

“I thought we were being serious.”

“Can you be ready to go somewhere nice by seven o’clock Friday night?”

“Well, today is Tuesday, so four days should probably be enough time to make myself look pretty.”

“You look pretty every day.”

* * *

“It is precisely seven o’clock. How punctual. I like it.” She opened the door wider, letting Harvey in. “However, it is my responsibility to women everywhere to reinforce the stereotype, so, I’m going to need a few more minutes.”

“I think you look wonderful. Everyone wears pajamas to five star restaurants now.” He held out the bouquet of flowers in his hand. “These are for you.”

“Oh, good. I was worried that we were picking up another woman on our way.” She took them and held them to her face, breathing in their scent. “They’re beautiful,

Harvey. I’ll go put them in some water.” She stood up on her tiptoes, planting soft kiss on his cheek. When she pulled away, she giggled.

“What?”

“I got some lipstick on your cheek.” She brushed her fingers across the pink mark. “I’ll get something to wipe that off, too.”

“Maybe I like it.”

She giggled again. “You have been marked, Harvey Specter.”

“Property of Madeleine Harper.”

“Damn straight.”


	2. Chapter Two

He kissed her, again, outside of her apartment building after their first date. He pulled away with lipstick on his face for the second time that evening, which she wiped off with soft fingertips and gentle giggles.

“Tomorrow is Saturday, so I wasn’t planning on going to the coffee shop for lunch,” he said.

She nodded. “But don’t try to be all cool about this and wait like three days to call me. That’s dumb and I like talking to you too much.”

“Okay. What is the ideal length of time I should wait before calling you?”

She chewed on her lip, thinking. “An hour? That gives me sufficient time to shower, put on my pajamas, get comfy.”

“So I guess you had a terrible time tonight,” he deadpanned.

“Yes, because all of the time we’ve spent together previously foreshadowed that tonight would be a disaster.”

 

He called almost exactly sixty minutes later.

“Your punctuality is almost terrifying, Harvey.”

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you fell asleep during a Yankees game,” he said, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

“We were ahead by five runs.”

“We won by six.”

“Awesome.” She yawned, sitting up and cracking her neck. “I should go home.”

“No, it’s late. You’re exhausted. Stay here.”

“Going home does sound like a lot of work.”

“So it’s settled then. I’ll find you a t-shirt to sleep in.”

           

She stood next to Harvey’s bed in a worn Harvard t-shirt that was several sizes too big for her but still very short on her legs, looking at him expectantly.

“Which side is yours?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Bullshit. Which side?”

“Fine. This one.”

She crawled into the bed as he turned off the lamp and slid in, facing her. She watched as he adjusted his pillows and blankets, and he stopped to look at her.         

“What?” he asked. “Don’t tell me you’re wide awake now.”       

“Absolutely not.”

“Then what?”

 “This.” She scooted over to him, pecking him gently on the lips. She stayed there, their faces only a few inches apart. “Are you one of those people who can’t stand to touch others while they sleep?”

“There are people like that?” he asked, rubbing his hand down her arm.

“My brother.”

“But not you?”

“No, not me,” she whispered.

“Then come here.”

She slid over a bit more, laying her head and a hand on his chest.

“Is this okay?”

“Hold on.” He moved his arm out from underneath her, wrapping it around her shoulders. “This is good.”

 “Mmm-hmm,” she agreed sleepily.

 

Harvey woke up to bright, late morning sun filling the room. He tried to check the time on the clock on his bedside table without moving too much, noticing that one of her legs had moved in between his as they slept. She shifted on his chest, looking up at him with hazy blue eyes.

“Good morning,” he whispered into her hair.

“Good morning.” She nuzzled her nose into the soft fabric of his t-shirt, sliding her foot down his calf.

“Do you want to go to breakfast? Well, brunch at this point.”

“Only if there’s mimosas,” she yawned. “And you don’t mind me wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday.”

“No one will know.”

 

* * *

 

Curled up on the side of her couch, her knees drawn up to her chest, she pretended to be fully absorbed in her own book and not sneaking glances at Harvey every few seconds to gauge his expression.

“I know you’re watching me,” he said finally, without looking up. “It’s making me nervous.”

“Making _you_ nervous?”

“How long do you usually make your boyfriends wait to read your writing?”

She tried to ignore the internal squeak at the word “boyfriend,” because she was twenty-three, not fifteen, dammit.

“Longer,” she said, pressing her lips together.

“What are you afraid of?”

“That I’m a horrible writer and you’ll hate it and then you won’t like me anymore?”

“That is ridiculous for so many reasons, the least of which is not because this is crazy fantastic.”

“Don’t you lie to me, Specter.”

“I’m a lawyer. If something is bullshit, I’ll tell you.”

She searched his face with narrowed eyes, and then returned to her book.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

“For now.”

* * *

 

“You really cook? Are you serious?” She leaned her elbows on the counter. “I thought you were joking and you were going to heat up take out or something.”

“Why do I seem like a man who can’t cook?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What is your flaw?”

“Would you like a list?”

“At this point, maybe. You’re too impressive and it’s scaring me.” He laughed, and she jumped up to sit on the counter. “Actually, _you_ should be scared… that I’m going to keep you forever.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”

“You say that now. Just wait until your cooking makes me fat _and_ I get all old and wrinkly.”

 

“How many stars do you give Harvey’s Kitchen?” he asked as she polished off a third glass of wine.

“A solid four and a half.”

“I’m hurt, honestly.”

“It was delicious. I couldn’t ever do that.” She paused, then amended, “wait, that’s a lie. I'm not completely useless. I could, _probably_ , if I were following a recipe. You were not.”

“I memorized the recipe,” he shrugged.

“Shh, don’t tell me _all_ of your secrets.” She stood, picking up both of their plates. “I’ll clean up.”

“No, this is my house.”

“Cook cooks, eater cleans.”

He carried the wine glasses into the kitchen, trying to put them in the sink as she turned around in front of it.

“Sorry,” he smiled, his hip bumping hers into the counter behind her.

“I’m trapped,” she said as he reached around her to place the wine glasses into the sink.

“Yep.” He popped the ‘p’ and her eyes moved from his eyes to his lips and back again.

She timidly reached a finger out to one of the buttons on his shirt. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to kiss me?”

He moved one hand to her hip and slid it around to the small of her back, sliding the other hand through her blonde hair. “Oh, I’m going to kiss you.”

She snaked her arms up between them and wound them around his neck, carding her fingers through his short hair. He bent her neck back to deepen the kiss, eliciting a quiet noise from her. Pushing his body closer to hers, he slid a hand down the side of her body until it cupped the top of her thigh, then tugged a little so that she hooked her leg around his, her foot pressing into his calf. His lips left a hot trail from her jawline to her neck, and his breath ghosted down to her collarbone, left exposed by the deep v of her sweater. He sucked at the tender skin there until she moaned his name, her hands roaming through his hair and over his shoulders and the top of his back.

He pulled her up to sit on the counter, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing their foreheads together. She gasped as he slid his hands up beneath her sweater, caressing her ribs, his wide hands spanning her sides. She reached down to take off her sweater and he shook his head.

“No. Let me.”

She nodded, and he peeled the sweater over her head, taking a deep, reverential breath as he placed it on the counter next to her. He kissed her bare shoulder, and she pushed him away.

“Stay still,” she whispered, pulling his shirt out of his jeans.

He nodded, and she carefully undid each button of shirt, painstakingly and slowly. He watched her as she worked, and when she was finally finished, he kissed her again, pulling away only as she took the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. He trailed kisses down from her neck to her chest, stopping at the tops of her breasts. He slid his hands up her back, leaving a trail of goose bumps, and expertly unfastened her bra.

“Wow, you seem to be quite skilled there,” she observed as she shrugged the straps off of her shoulders and let the garment slide to the floor.

“It’s not that difficult.”

“No, it’s not, and I’ve never understood why men are confused by it.”

“Men are confused by a lot of things,” he murmured into her shoulder.

She pulled him back to her by his belt loops, roughly kissing his neck and the underside of his jaw.

“This is as far as I can reach,” she said. “You’re so tall.”

“You’re kind of tiny,” he shrugged, bending down a little. “Better?”

“Eh.” She rubbed her hands down his chest, her lips following her fingertips. “Down here I can do this,” she whispered against his skin.

He moaned softly, rising up on his toes so that she could reach lower. “This is pretty good.”

“That’s what I th—” she began, cutting off sharply as he reached between them, his rough palm running across her breast. “Oh, god.”

“Good?” he asked.

“So good,” she responded, dipping her fingers below the waistband of his jeans. He grabbed her wrists, shaking his head as his hips involuntarily pushed forward against her.

“Do you want to go to my bed?”

“Yes. Yes I do.”

 

* * *

 

 “Do you want to have lunch with my dad and my brother?” Harvey asked one afternoon over coffee. “They’re dying to meet you. They’re really cool, I promise.”

She placed a hand over his, smiling. “I would love to.”

“Is Saturday too short notice?”

“Wow, let me check my super busy social calendar that pretty much only includes you.” She mimed flipping through an imaginary planner. “Yes, Saturday is fine.”

 

“Madeleine!” She was greeted warmly as Harvey helped her off of the train, his father opening his arms to invite her in for a hug. “I’m Gordon. It’s so nice to finally meet you! We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Mostly good, I hope.”

“Mostly?” Gordon laughed. “This boy is smitten.”

“Hey now, don’t be telling all of my secrets from the get-go,” Harvey scolded, hugging his father. He turned to his brother. “Madeleine, Marcus. Marcus, Madeleine.”

           

“Okay, okay, that’s it. This is the limit for embarrassing stories about me as a child,” Harvey announced.

“Oh, no,” Madeleine laughed. “Please don’t stop. Like, ever.”

“Well, you’ll just have to come back and visit and hear more,” Gordon said.

“We haven’t even scratched the surface,” Marcus added.

“Now it’s time to make Madeleine tell embarrassing stories about _her_ childhood,” Harvey said, taking a sip of his beer.

“You can’t tell stories about your own childhood,” Madeleine scoffed.

“Yeah, Harvey, you’re such an idiot,” Marcus teased.

“What about grilling her with questions? Isn’t that what parents are supposed to do when they meet the girlfriend? Make sure she’s good enough for their precious son?”

“Son, we already know she’s way too good for you.”

           

“Please come and visit again soon,” Gordon implored, hugging Madeleine as they waited for the train. “Bring Harvey if you have to.”

           

* * *

 

 He smiled, kissing the top of her head. He moved a hand to her cheek, and she pressed into it, though he couldn’t tell if she was still asleep or not.

“Maddie?”

She turned her face slightly into his palm, her lips brushing gently against the outside of his hand.

“I love you,” he whispered.

She stretched across him, kissing his shoulder, rubbing her thumb back and forth across his arm. After a moment, she kissed his shoulder again, moved her arm to his waist, and fell back asleep.

He lay awake for a little while, silently twisting the words over his tongue.

           

As sunrise spilled in through the windows, Madeleine nudged Harvey awake, one hand rubbing the slight stubble on his unshaven cheek.

“It’s so early, Mad,” he whispered into her hair.

“You told me that you loved me,” she whispered, propping herself up on her hand.

He took a deep breath. “I do. I’ve never said it so soon, but… I was sure. It felt good.”

“I didn’t say it back.”

“That’s okay.” He rubbed soothing circles on her back, still blinking away sleep. “I didn’t need you to.”

“But I do.” She pulled his hand to her chest, holding it there. “Feel how fast my heart is beating,” she grinned. She took his hand to her lips, kissing his fingertips gently. “I love you.”

“I can’t believe _my_ heart pounding didn’t keep you up all night.” He took a deep breath. “It wasn’t scary to tell you I love you. I thought it might be, since it’s only been a few months. But it wasn’t. It was easy. It was good.” He laughed. “Maybe that should scare me.”

“It sure scares the hell out of me,” she laughed, settling back down. “But in the best way.”

 

* * *

 

His cream colored sheets twisted underneath her as she tossed and turned, shivering while a thin sheen of sweat covered her forehead. He sat on the edge of the bed and pressed a cool hand to her forehead, swearing under his breath when he felt the heat radiating off of her. He gently shook her shoulder to wake her and she moaned a little as she opened her eyes to look at him.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

“The couch.”

“I kicked you out of your own bed?” She coughed at the end of her question and he ignored it.

“You need to take some more medicine.” He handed her a glass of water and she winced as the pill went down her aching throat.

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “I have to go to work in a little bit, but I’ll come check on you during my lunch break. I’ll bring you some of that tomato soup you like.”

“From the café down the street?”

He nodded. “Your favorite.”

She shivered again and he draped another blanket over her, rubbing a hand over her hair.

“Go back to sleep.”

“You know, last night, you said that after I got some sleep, I would feel better. I see now that that was a lie.” She rolled her eyes. “Damn lawyer.”

He smiled. “So get some more.”

He sat by and watched her until her fitful, sleepy whimpers turned into soft, even breaths as the medicine kicked in, then pressed a kiss to her warm forehead and left for work.

 

* * *

 

She held an envelope to her chest. “I got published for the first time in the eleventh grade, but I will never stop being excited when someone prints one of my stories. I’m succeeding at what I want to do, even just a little bit.”

“I’m proud of you.”

She laughed. “You don’t have to be.”

He leaned in so that their foreheads touched. “But I am.”

He kissed her, his arm wrapping around her waist. With the other hand, he gently took the envelope from her hand, putting it on the counter.

“Making money isn’t bad either.”

“It’s only a couple hundred dollars,” she said breathlessly as his lips moved to her jaw and then to her neck. “But it’s how I buy groceries.”

She moved her hand to the back of his head, her fingers combing through his hair. His lips found hers again as he shrugged out of his suit jacket.

She broke this kiss to help him out of it. “Wow, you _are_ proud of me.”

He laughed, pulling her t-shirt over her head.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, quick check. Your brother is Aaron, and he’s older, your sister is Amelia, and she’s in college.”

“Yes, that’s why we have to go this weekend—because she’s home for a few days.”

“Where does she go to college again?”

“The University of Florida. She’s pre-dentistry.”

“What does your brother do?”

“He’s an accountant. And his wife, Annie, is a pharmacist.”

“And you’re a writer. How disappointed are your parents?”

“Well, I was already the middle child, so I don’t think they had much hope for me anyway.”

           

 

“I’ve called to tell you that I am the worst boyfriend ever.”

“That seems dramatic.”

He sighed. “The Brennan trial got moved up to Monday.”

“Oh.” She sat down on the edge of her bed in disappointment.” So you have to work all weekend.”

“I’m so sorry, Madeleine. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” She kicked the corner of her suitcase forlornly. “That’s really important. Obviously.”

“I was looking forward to meeting your family. I feel terrible.”

She shrugged. “They’ll understand.”

“It’s not a long drive. Maybe I can drive down for a little while?”

“No, no,” she insisted sincerely. “Don’t worry about it. Amelia will be home again soon, for the holidays.”

“Let’s spend Christmas in D.C.”

She laughed. “Don’t agree to that so quickly. You haven’t even met them yet.”

“You agreed to spend Thanksgiving with my dad and brother, that seems fair.”

“Yeah, but that’s only a couple of days. Besides, I like your dad and Marcus.”

“Why do you think I won’t like your family? Besides, it will put me back in their good graces after missing this weekend.”

“Okay, but I want you to remember that this is your idea.”

“Hey, Maddie I have to go. I’ll call you later, okay? I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

 

 

“It wasn’t very nice of him to cancel on such short notice.”

“Mom, the trial got moved up. He couldn’t help it. His job is _important_.”

“It’s only a four hour drive. He couldn’t even come down for a little bit?”

“He suggested that, but I said it was too much of a hassle. Besides, he has a lot of work to do.”

“I’m beginning to doubt this Harvard-lawyer boyfriend even _exists_ , Mads,” her brother chimed in.

 

* * *

 

Madeleine pulled a blouse off of a hanger in her section of Harvey’s closet. She was trying to simultaneously use the hairbrush usually left on her side of the sink, while not bumping into Harvey, who was picking out a tie.

“Ooh, that one,” she suggested, pulling the blouse over her head. She kicked at a pile of clothes on the floor. “Ugh, guess I better take this home and wash it.”

“Why don’t you just move in here?” Harvey shot over his shoulder.

She turned quickly. “What?”

“I mean, you’re usually here— except when you run by your place to get stuff—and my place is bigger— so it would be so much easier.” He sighed. “I was going to think of a really smooth, great way to ask you, but that’s what came out.”

“So…” she said, “I should move here because it’s practical?”

“No. You should move in with me because I want you to. Because I want you here all the time. Because I want to live with you.”

           

           

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my extraordinary betas, footnoterphone, and, as always, Mila!


	3. Chapter 3

“What was so urgent that you needed me to come straight home from work?” he asked curiously, moving past her into the kitchen. “I’m starving.”

She held up an envelope with a return address from NYU. “It’s the small envelope, Harvey.”

“Oh. Come on, let’s sit down.” He took off his jacket, leading her to the couch. “Maybe it’s something else. Maybe they just need to—”

“Harvey, I’m a big girl.” She took a deep breath. “It’s okay. I can always reapply; I can…” she trailed off as she opened it with shaking hands. She read aloud, “Ms. Harper, thank you for your interest in New York University’s MFA program. We regret to inform you that we cannot offer you admission at this time.” She set the letter down on the coffee table, furiously blinking back tears. She turned her face away from Harvey, who wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer.

“Babe, it’s okay to cry. You wanted this. You worked hard for this.” He kissed her temple. “You’re allowed to be upset.”

 

* * *

 

 “It’s almost summer, I’m sure some schools are hiring.” She chuckled. “Everyone who told me an English degree was only good for being a teacher was right.”

 

* * *

 

“Harvey?” She squinted through the dark at him—he was sitting up in bed, his head leaning back against the headboard with a hand covering his eyes. “You okay, baby?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure? Was it a dream?”

“Kind of.” He sighed. “Can I tell you something?”

She looked puzzled. “You can tell me anything.”

“I mean, is this a good time? Are you awake?”

“I am now. What’s going on? You’re kind of scaring me.”

“It’s about my mom.”

She sat up, turning to face him, and placed a hand on his thigh. “Okay.”

“Um… She cheated on my dad. For years.” He took a breath. “Years and years. I caught her for the first time when I was just a kid, and then again when I was a teenager. She told me she would stop, and I—I _believed_ her. I didn’t want to tell my dad. It would hurt him too badly. And I mean, he was never home, he was always travelling.” He paused, and she rubbed his thigh, waiting patiently. “I told him, finally, when I was in law school. I hated her. I hated her so much. And it did destroy him. He kicked her out. And Marcus was so mad at me, because dad was finally home, and he wanted to be able to be with both of them. And I think dad was mad at me, too. And I was mad at myself. I bought an apartment in the city and I didn’t look back for a while.”

“I want to say bad things, but she’s your mother, so I won’t.”

He shook his head. “I still hate her. I really do. I haven’t talked to her since then.”

“Not at all?”

“What would I say to her?”

She nodded, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want you to think that I have some deep fear of you cheating on me or something.”

“Well, I’m just going to let you know, whether you’re afraid of it or not—I’m not going to cheat on you.” She took his hand, squeezing it between both of hers. “I love you so much it hurts, Harvey Specter.”

“I love you.”

She laid down on her back, reaching out an arm to him. “Come here.”

He did as she said, resting his head underneath her chin, and she softly ran her fingers through his hair until he fell back asleep.

 

* * *

 

 “How’d your interview go this morning?” he asked through bites of hot dog.

“I think it went well. The English department head seems nice."

“That’s good."

“Yeah. I have an interview with another school next week, too. And I’m waiting on a call back from another one.” She sighed. “Job hunting is hard."

           

* * *

 

He was so engrossed in a file that he didn’t notice her until she placed a heavy bag on his desk.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in days,” she sighed. “I brought Chinese— I wasn’t a hundred percent sure that you’ve been eating. I know you haven’t been sleeping."

“You’re an angel.” He closed the file, rubbing his temples. “The trial is tomorrow. I just have to get through a few more days."

She moved behind his chair, massaging his shoulders. “I’m so proud of you, with your first big white-collar crime trial.” She kissed the top of his head. “My hotshot lawyer.” 

 

* * *

 

She rolled over, blinking at him as he took his watch off and put it in the top dresser drawer.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to stay out this late, either. I wanted to come celebrate with you."

She shrugged, sitting up. “I figured you’d be out celebrating with the other ADAs. The _boys_.” 

He laughed. “It was a weird night."

“Oh?"

He sat down on the edge of the bed next to her, and she laid her head on his shoulder.

“I met… a woman. Donna. A secretary. She wants to be my secretary."

“You met her at the bar?"

“Apparently she heard of me."

“Ooh. Aren’t you a big shot."

“She’s a little bit frightening, actually. She seems to know everything. But that’s what makes her so good."

“Is she hot?"

“What?"

“Is she hot?"

“Uh… I don’t know."

She laughed, pushing into his shoulder. “I’m just messing with you. So you hired her?"

“Yeah. But that wasn’t the only weird thing."

“Really?"

“I got a job offer."

“From Jessica?"

“No. From Charles Forstman. He’s a banker. And he’s a piece of shit.” He shook his head. “There’s no way I’m getting into business with him."

 

* * *

 

“Marcus asked me for money again."

She nodded. “How much?"

“He wants to open a restaurant. He needs $150,000. I don’t have that money, but he threatened to go to Mom."

 

* * *

 

“Jessica won’t move up our timeline, and… Forstman is going to give me a million dollar signing bonus."

“Harvey…"

“I can give Marcus his money, let him get his life together. And we can… you won’t have to teach."

“Don’t worry about me."

“The money I would make with him… our future, our kids…” He put a hand on either side of Madeleine’s face. “I need that money. Marcus needs that money."

“Harvey, you’re just… you’re not the kind of man who gets in bed with someone like that for the money. You never compromise what you think is right. This just isn’t like you."

“It’s not about the money. It’s about Marcus."

“I know, I know. I just don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret for the rest of your life."

“I don’t see another choice, babe. I just don’t."

 

* * *

 

“I’m taking the job."

She nodded solemnly.

“Don’t be mad at me. I need to be able to give Marcus that money."

“I know. I’m not mad."

“Disappointed?"

“A little."

“I didn’t have a choice."

“You keep saying that."

“Because I didn’t!"

 

* * *

 

“I’m an idiot! I’m such an idiot!"

“What are you talking about?"

“He used me! That piece of shit used me!"

“Harvey, calm down. Talk to me."

“I told him duPont Investments was going down for insider trading, and he sold all of his shares. He made a hundred million dollars off of inside information! That I provided for him!” He wiped a hand over his face in frustration, sinking down onto the couch. “He took $150,000 out of my signing bonus and gave it to Marcus. Now it looks like I took money from the deal. _And_ he told Marcus it came from me. I can’t take it back from him."

She sat down next to him, rubbing a hand over his thigh. 

“Please don’t say ‘I told you so’."

She shook her head. “I would never."

 

* * *

 

He walked over to her spot at the living room desk, placing his hands on her shoulders and massaging them gently. “Babe, it’s three o’clock in the morning."

“Is it really?” She shook her head. “What are you doing up?"

“I woke up and you weren’t there."

“I couldn’t stop writing."

“Come to bed."

“Let me wrap up, okay? I’ll be there in just a few minutes.” 

He kissed the top of her head and left.

 

 

She ate her hamburger silently, listening as he spoke of his morning, but contributing nothing.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked suddenly.

“If I was mad at you, would I have met you for lunch?"

“You’re mad at me."

She frowned. “You didn’t tell me good-bye this morning."

“You were up so late, I wanted to let you sleep."

“I’d rather you say good-bye."

“Okay. I promise that I will kiss you good-bye every morning, for the rest of my life. Pinky swear."

  

* * *

 

“Hey, Donna, is he busy?”

“Never too busy for you,” she smiled.

She walked into his office, closing the door behind her and leaning back on it, arms crossed. “Guess what.”

“What? Something good I hope.”

“You are looking at Landon Academy’s newest eleventh grade English teacher.”

“Congratulations!” He got up and met her halfway, wrapping her in a tight hug. “Which one is Landon again?”

“It’s a small private school just outside of the city. It seems nice. I’m lucky, I guess,” she said into his shoulder.

“You don’t sound super excited about it.”

“No, I am. It’s a good job.”

“You just don’t want to have to have the job.”

She shrugged, backing away from him. “No. I’m going to be super psyched about this. This is good.”

“You’re going to be an amazing teacher, Maddie.” He kissed her cheek. “We’re going to go to a really nice dinner tonight to celebrate, okay?” He kissed her other cheek. “Miss Harper.”

 

* * *

 

“Donna, can you clear my afternoon tomorrow?"

“Yes. Why?"

“I’m going to the jewelry store. I’m going to propose."

“You mean you haven’t yet? What is wrong with you?"

He ignored her. “And find me good seats for Friday’s Yankees game.”

 

* * *

 

 He fingered the ring in his pocket after Derek Jeter’s walk-off double, but the crowd was much too rowdy, and then everyone was pushing past them to leave.

 

“Let’s get off here and walk through the park,” he suggested.

“Okay,” she smiled. She had drunk just enough cheap beer at the game to be relaxed and giggly.

He grabbed her hand as they exited the subway station and she swung their arms back and forth.

“Your hand is sweaty,” she laughed. 

“Do you want to let go?”

“No.” 

 

He pulled her to a stop in the middle of the park, the stars beginning to come out overhead.

“I need to say something, and I need you to let me get it all out before you say anything—it’s very well rehearsed but it could all fall to pieces.”

“I promise.”

“Maddie,” he began. “I love you more than I knew I could ever love another person. You are the most important thing in this world to me—your safety, your comfort, your happiness. I don’t want to be without you for a moment.”

Her eyes wide with realization, she gasped. “Oh my God.”

“Shhh.” He reached into his pocket, lowering himself onto one knee.

She let out a squeak, her hands covering her mouth.

“Madeleine June Harper, will you marry me?”

Without moving her hands from her mouth, she nodded, tears filling her

eyes.

            Grinning, Harvey stood. “I’ll put the ring on you, but you have to give me your hand.” He tugged on her left wrist a little, sliding the ring onto the proper finger and kissing the inside of her palm.

            She looked at it on her finger for a moment, and then flung her arms around his neck. He squeezed her to him, and she kissed him excitedly, moving her hands to each side of his face.

            She pulled away, looking him in the eye. “Harvey Reginald Specter, I love you so much I feel like I could explode. I love everything about you. You make me smile, you make me laugh, you support me in everything I do. I am always proud of you. I am your biggest fan.” The tears flowed freely down her cheeks then, and were welled up in his eyes. “I always feel safe and protected and loved around you. There is no place I would rather be than in your arms. So, yes, all I want to be in this world is your wife.”

            “This is why you’re the writer,” he said, kissing her again.

            “Mrs. Harvey Specter,” she whispered.

 

 

 

 


End file.
